The Highwayman's Mistress (4 page)

Chapter Four

~

On approach to Vernon the
coachman slowed the horses from walk to a standstill, and it was Angelica who
clambered down and came to the door. Richard opened it, her voice somewhat
shaky. “You must alight here, Anna Marie, for Pierre must go on and into the
town with Diamonta and the viscount. We cannot be seen, not here. People might
recognise you.”

 
“And what if they do?” demanded Anna Marie.
“My mother and aunt are here.”

 
“Precisely,” said Angelica, frustrated air
about her. “Why must you always be so blind to reality? We are fugitives from
justice, a price on our heads no doubt, and Pierre cannot avoid the town. He
has to change the horses, or we shall not make many miles tonight. The moon
still gives light, and he says he will need at least a full hour to exchange
the horses. And we a little less time to walk the river path, for we will have
to wait for him on the highway the other side of Vernon.”

 
Richard stepped down from the coche, and
offered a hand to Anna Marie. “Fear not dear girl, it is, perhaps for the best.
I had forgotten we would need to change livery, and while Pierre sees to all
that, Diamonta and I shall attempt to obtain sustenance of some sort or other
for the journey.

 
Angelica laughed. “Oh, I thought of that. I
have a little bread, cheese, and apples,” she said, brandishing aloft her
tied-cloth bundle.

 
“Clever girl,” declared Richard.

 
“I had thought to bring grapes and other
fruits, but thought it better we appear less privileged if stopped and
searched.”

 
“Searched?” snapped Anna Marie. “Not if we
are wandering river paths by moonlight.”

 
“The sooner we set off the sooner we will
all be together again.” Angelica turned to Anna Marie, caught up her hand.
“Come on.
Hurry
.”

 
There was no time to stay and watch them
disappear. Richard fair leaped into the coche and Pierre set the horses once
again on course. “At a rough guess I estimate we still have eighty miles to
cover, and will not make the coast before tomorrow evening,” he said, “not at
the speed we’re travelling.”

 
“Is it any wonder, for the horses have done
remarkably well in consideration of a very brief rest at the hunting lodge.
Since then they have kept at a steady trot for the greater part of the
journey.”

 
“Could not agree more,” returned Richard,
“though I must say my thoughts have dwelled with Angelica’s brother. I do hope
the fellow escaped capture. I didn’t much like the sound of that gun shot we
heard.”

 
“Nor I, but I live in hope Francois is
safe.”

 
“I rather gained the impression you hold a
lighted candle to Francois. Am I right?”

 
She sensed a guilt-laden flush to her
cheeks, and rather glad Richard could not see the rosy glow. “I like him well
enough, and he is Angelica’s brother, so I suppose it’s fair to say I love him
because of that.”

 
“Diamonta
Whitaker
,” said Richard, a
chuckle, “it is no odds to me if you have a fanciful admiration for the young
count.”

 
“But I
 
. . . No. What I mean is . . .”

 
“We’re good friends, you and I,” he said,
stealing her words.

 
“Well yes. The dearest of friends.”

 
That is exactly what I told Leohne, yet
still she doubts my intentions, I fear.”

 
“Leohne?” Her heart lifted. “Oh, I see.”

 
“I think you are somewhat surprised, but not
disappointed I trust?”

 
“Oh no, I can think of no one better than
yourself for Leohne. But if honesty be our path, then why have you always
sought my arm upon yours?”

 
“I’ve known for a long while my earnest
affections toward you were unbidden, and is not the power of jealousy great
motive for revealing one’s true feelings? And unlike you, Leohne is unable to
hide her emotions.”

 
She laughed. “I feel sore abused, Viscount
Somerton.” They both laughed, the houses of Vernon now surrounding them, the
coche jolting to a halt outside an auberge. “Perhaps we are not too late to
secure refreshment.”

 
“I fancy aubergiste’ are more nosey than our
average innkeepers back home, but this one seemed friendly enough earlier
today.” Richard opened the door, the coachman probably more concerned with the
horses. But as soon as he stepped down, he glanced back, said, “Keep your
nerve, I think we are about to be challenged by official looking gentlemen.” He
stepped forward, bowed to whomever on approach. “Good evening to you, sirs.”

 
She slithered toward the door and peered
out. True enough three men advancing did indeed look somewhat official in
countenance. The shorter, stouter one in the middle with tailcoat that seemed a
little too small, said more statement than question, “You are Engleesh?”
Richard shrugged his shoulders, as though not understanding their French
tongue. The little man sighed deeply, exasperation evident as he repeated in
pigeon English, “You are Engleesh?”

 
Richard smiled, replied, “We are, my lady
and myself, indeed English.”

 
“Your business?”

 
“Merchant, and
 
. . .”

 
“I am aware that is what you claim,”
chirruped the little man, “and you came by this way earlier today. Now I wish
to know where you have been and why you are returned so quickly.”

 
“It’s like this,” said Richard, in matter of
fact tone, “I . . . We were on our way to Paris, where I had business to
conduct. We had no choice but to return here after militiamen stopped us en
route and told us to turn back and leave France immediately.”

 
The fat little man pushed past Richard and
came to stand in front of her, but addressed himself to Richard. “This is your
wife?”

 
“Yes, my wife.”

 
The little man’s piggy eyes assessed her
dress, scrutinised her face, said, “Madame,” and bowed his head in respectful
manner. “Please remain in your coche.” He then turned to Richard. “Come with
me,” and led off inside the auberge.

 
A sigh of relief escaped, for if correct in
her thinking Richard was about to be given free pass to the coast.
Thank God
.

~~

Pierre kept the fresh
horses at a steady trot through Vernon and out onto the open highway, but
reined them back to walk once sure they were safely distant from sight of the
township.

 
“It’s wonderful
the way coaching in France is little different than in England. How awful this
journey might have been if we’d had to stop to rest the horses every few
hours.”

 
“Too true,” said Richard, “and Pierre is
quite secure in the knowledge he can call on fresh steeds at given points en
route from Honfleur to Paris and back again.”

 
Both she and Richard searched the roadside
ahead for signs of Angelica and Anna Marie, but neither appeared. The coche
finally ground to a halt, and still not a sign of the two women.

 
“Could anything have happened, do you
think?”
 
She could barely see Richard’s
face in the darkened interior of the coche, and the moon kept vanishing behind
wisps of cloud, or was it mist?
 
He
remained silent, and that from him was unnerving. “Where are they?”

 
He then moved quite suddenly, opened the
door and stepped out. He spoke with the coachman, and it was clear both were
worried at no sign of Angelica and Anna Marie. Pierre agreed to remain for a
few minutes longer, but warned it would only take one rider from Vernon to
think their coche waiting on the highway was odd indeed and in haste return to
report his findings.

 
So they waited in silence bar for odd ring
of horseshoe on stone and chink of curb chain against bit, the horses ever
restless. Worried almost senseless her heart skipped as Richard suddenly rushed
to the rear of the coche and disappeared. She waited and listened with baited
breath, and yes, she could hear a female voice: Angelica’s voice. And soon, she
was there before her and clambering aboard. Richard too.

 
“Where is Anna Marie?” she asked, as the
coche jolted and Angelica and Richard fell into the seat opposite.

 
Semi breathless, Angelica threw her hands in
the air, quite annoyed in manner. “I tried to stop her, but Anna Marie can be
so difficult at times. And this time, she made me so angry I slapped her. I
tried to slap sense into her.”

 
“Slapped her. Why for?”

 
“She refused to take the river path, and
insisted as her family lived nearby she would be quite safe there. So, the
stupid thing turned around and ran in the opposite direction. I ran after her,
and tripped and fell. By the time I reached the highway again she had vanished.
I walked on a little way toward Vernon and there discovered a sign pointing to
her aunt’s Château. What could I do? Follow her and hope I might live to tell
the tale to my grandchildren in years to come, as she believes possible. No, I
have more sense. For we, the titled grandees, the end has come.”

 
Diamonta leaned forward, took her friend’s
hands in hers. “You did your best for Anna Marie, and I am glad you are safe
with us. For you are, and we have a pass to get us away from France and home to
England.”

 
“Poor Anna Marie,” said Angelica, tears
aplenty. “Foolish, foolish Anna Marie.”

 
“Will Francois be upset, when he finds out
Anna Marie has stayed behind?”

 
“He will be upset she has thrown her life
away after he rescued us both from the palace gardens at Versailles. And no, he
will not miss her company, for he dreaded it, and many times pleaded for any
man to lure her away from him.”

 
“Oh, I see. So they were never lovers?”

 
Richard coughed, a gentlemanly cough to draw
their attention. “Will he beg any man to lure Diamonta away from his arm, do
you think?”

 
Amidst tears and sniffles Angelica
half-laughed. “I think not, and perhaps if one did he might call him to a duel
at dawn.”

 
“Ah,” sighed Richard. “Mutual attraction, it
is then.”

 
She would love to have slapped Richard for
that comment. It was true, Francois unsettled her in many ways, but he may not
have survived his daring feat to detain and engage his and his sister’s
pursuers in a game of catch-me-if-you-can. And, further engagement between her
and Francois might only ever happen within dreams.

~~

They huddled together,
Richard’s arms about their shoulders as the wind caught the sails and the boat
momentarily shuddered. Once tacked into the wind the boat headed out into open
waters, and the port of Honfleur would soon become a mere speck. They keened
the quayside in hope Francois would come galloping into view. He did not, and
sadness befell them.

 
“He may make England, yet,” said Richard, a
reassuring hug to each before letting his arms fall from their shoulders. “Who
knows, perhaps he is there already.”

 
“He would not have left without me,” said
Angelica, as a stray tear trickled down her cheek.

 
 
Diamonta could empathise, for her own heart too was breaking over
loss of Francois. “We dared not wait for him. It was too dangerous in Honfleur.
There were far too many inquisitive eyes for my liking, and we were so lucky to
get passage on this boat and so quick. It was as though the locals wanted all
foreigners out of the country, and for no one to see what is happening, what is
going to happen.”

 
“I know,’ said Angelica, eyes brimmed with
tears. “My friends, my brother if not already dead, and of course, all at
court, including the Queen I shouldn’t wonder. For it does seem as though that
awful Lamotte woman has finally wreaked her vile revenge.”

 
“Lamotte woman?”

 
“You have not heard tell of the jewels,
Diamonta,” enquired Richard.

 
“Jewels, what jewels?”

 
“A fabulous diamond necklace ordered in the
Queen’s name, though never in her possession to wear.”

 
“That is so, Diamonta,” intoned Angelica,
tears at last ebbing. “That despicable Lamotte woman not only faked her and her
husband’s title, she became Cardinal Rohan’s mistress and duped everyone at
court. She never was a friend of the Queen, though pretended to be of influence
and claimed the Queen’s ears hers to command. In that role of supposed
confidante to Marie Antoinette she arranged delivery of the necklace, gave it
to her husband and it is presumed he sold it in England for that is where he
went. The Queen was terrible accused of having accepted the necklace and due
monies unpaid. She denied it, of course, and as a lady-in-waiting to her majesty,
I knew she had never received the necklace.”

 
“Damnable case,” said Richard, expression of
considered thought, “which did rather bring the Queen’s extravagances to public
attention.”

 
“And, of course, truth came to light.
Lamotte was arrested, her punishment that of a good whipping and the branding
iron.”

 
“Little wonder she sought revenge,” said
Diamonta, shivering in utter repulsion at such harsh treatment served on a
woman. “Do you think the royals will be sent to the guillotine?”